The Abandoned Room eBook

He yawned, recalling snatches of books he had read
and one or two scientific reports of such cases.
He climbed into bed and blew out his candle.
His drowsiness thickened. In his dulled mind one
recollection remained—­the picture of Howells
coldly challenging him with his level smile to make
a secret entrance of the old bedroom in a murderous
effort to escape the penalty of the earlier crime.
And Howells had been right. His death would give
Bobby a chance. The destruction of the evidence,
the bringing into the case of a broader-minded man,
a man without a carefully constructed theory—­all
that would help Bobby, might save him. Howells,
moreover, had indicated that he had so far withheld
his evidence. But that was probably a bait.

In his drowsy way Bobby hated more powerfully than
before this detective who, with a serene malevolence,
made him writhe in his net. Thought ceased.
He drifted into a trance-like sleep. He swung
in the black pit again, fighting out against crushing
odds. The darkness thundered as though informing
him that graver forces than any he had ever imagined
had definitely grasped him. Then he understood.
He was in a black cell, and the thundering was the
steady advance of men along an iron floor to take
him—­

“Bobby! Bobby!”

He flung out his hands. He sat upright, opening
his eyes. The blackness assumed the familiar,
yielding quality of the night. The thunder, the
footfalls, became a hurried knocking at his door.

“Bobby! You’re there—­”
It was Katherine. Her tone made the night as
frightening as the blackness of the pit.

“What’s the matter?”

“You’re there. I didn’t know.
Get up. Hartley’s putting some clothes on.
Hurry! The house is so dark—­so strange.”

“Tell me what’s happened.”

She didn’t answer at first. He struck a
match, lighted his candle, threw on a dressing gown,
and stepped to the door. Katherine shrank against
the wall, hiding her eyes from the light of his candle.
He thought it odd she should wear the dress in which
she had appeared at dinner. But it seemed indifferently
fastened, and her hair was in disorder. Graham
stepped from his room.

“What is it?” Bobby demanded.

“You wouldn’t wake up, Bobby. You
were so hard to wake.” The idea seemed
to fill her mind. She repeated it several times.